


Various Drabbles

by Liivrah



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depressing, Fluff, Short, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27054547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liivrah/pseuds/Liivrah
Summary: A series of drabbles/short stories that I write in an hour or more that come to me during the day. They range from depressing, cheesy, happy and even tragic, whatever I think ends up in here.If you have any suggestions or ideas, feel free to comment them.





	Various Drabbles

There is blood in the sky. 

She can see it — the way it drips just out of her sight, soaking through the stars and wrapping around the moon. It waits on the horizon, drying on it’s curves. She tries to raise her hand to reach it, but it continues to be numb. No, perhaps it is not even there anymore.

The wetness of her hair is quickly drying, basking in the dying warmth of the sleeping sun and mirroring the moonlight. The tears of her cheeks will take a long time to go even after her goodbye.

There is no fear for what comes, she finds. She cannot bring the energy to smile, but the corners of her sunflower eyes crinkle, tilting with silent happiness. Her ears rise ever so slightly at the movement, her ribs creaking and cracking with the snort that seems to rattle her. 

There is a wind brushing over the wasteland which stings her eyes but she accepts the pain, blinking slowly and savouring the distraction like a masterful dish. Her eyes move to the side, moving across the land and landing on a wonderful garden not too far from her. 

It flickers with fragility, the daffodils swaying with the feathery wind. The stagnant air which once contained a bitterness that hit the back of the throat with its density simply smells like freshly cut grass and the wheeze that escapes her is the one of relief. 

The smell is enough to remind her of her mother, the flushed cheeks and sweat pouring from her temple as she finished with their garden. She would spend hours helping her clean up, her nose running and a box of tissues as a permanent aide. Her mother’s smile was enough reason to help, the beam and flash of teeth remaining in her thoughts for many days after. 

The garden of daffodils, backlit by a bloody night sky, is a sight she would never forget. She watches until her eyes dry, until the prickliness of her chest is sated and silent, until her last breaths leave her and the willpower pumping her heart crumbles. 

What a wonderful death, she thinks. A satisfying death that can only come with fighting for your life, only to be given a merciful and sweet ending, one which happens from full acceptance. Her heart aches with a bittersweet sadness. 

Her stubbornness had kept her safe until the moon rose, allowing her to match the constellations up like she was a child again. So as the cold wind caught up with her, she could think about the King of Cos, who was transformed into an eagle by Hera as he was about to commit suicide once her eyes traced the patterns. 

It would have been nice to fly, she thinks. 

The twitch of her fingers catches the palm of a hand and her body shakes from shock, her head shifting and throbbing with the movement. It is a well-worn face, death greeted with an unpleasant grimace. She takes comfort in it, knowing that if she did not feel the way she did, she wouldn’t have been alone — that the one’s like him and the one’s like her have someone holding them up, bringing them into a warm embrace of unfaltering acceptance. 

The thought of it brings a mild warmth to her, and with it, she knows that it is the delightful hug of death.

And then, as the edges of her sight darken, swallowed by the shadows of the night and the gruelling minutes pass by, finally, her eyes shudder and shut. A satiable death at last.

**Author's Note:**

> tragic #1


End file.
